


John's Last Number

by M_E_Lover, oddgit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Accidental overdose, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hallucinations, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_E_Lover/pseuds/M_E_Lover, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddgit/pseuds/oddgit
Summary: "Tossing a few pills in his mouth, Harold opened the next bottle that had been prescribed to him for his stomach and swallowed a few of them down with a gulp of water as well. He made his way back to the couch and slumped down into the soft fabric after laying his glasses on the table and he closed his eyes hoping to have a few hours of pain-free rest, he was very tired… mentally and physically..."So I guess this is kind of like "Terra Incognita" but Harold's version.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [John 的最后一个号码](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727568) by [LesleyShowery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesleyShowery/pseuds/LesleyShowery)



> Comments and Feedback are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Thanks to the great M_E_Lover as always for the beta and also being a co-author.

“I’m going out to meet with the magazine company to discuss the contract… do you need anything sweetheart?" Grace asked coming over to kiss Harold goodbye.

"No, no I don't think so." Harold replied as he rose from the chair with a grimace and kissed her back. Grace's face frowned with concern, "I'm fine Grace, really. I promise." Harold replied to her unspoken worry with a smile, the last thing he wanted to do was worry his sweet love.

"Okay… I'll be back soon." She said walking out of the door with an expression of intense thought on her face. As soon as the door closed Harold made for the bathroom with great effort and limped inside. He opened the medicine cabinet and took out two prescription pill bottles. Since he left New York, the pain in his neck and back had seemed to get worse and the gunshot wound to his stomach didn't make things any easier. He opened the top of the first one and emptied out some of the medication that he used for his existing injuries onto the counter.  He had a very high tolerance for pain but today was a very bad day. Tossing a few in his mouth, he opened the next bottle that had been prescribed to him for his stomach and swallowed a few of them down with a gulp of water as well. He made his way back to the couch and slumped down into the soft fabric after laying his glasses on the table and he closed his eyes hoping to have a few hours of pain-free rest, he was very tired… mentally and physically...

#

Harold woke up slowly, blinking his eyes trying to clear his vision. He had a terrible ache in his stomach and he doubled over from the pain. When tried to sit up he moved too quickly and as he lifted his head the room started to pitch and spin. Falling back onto the couch, he turned over with a groan. He then noticed that there was someone standing by the window with one leg propped up on the ledge. "G…Grace?" He whispered, his throat was dry and cracked when he spoke. The figure laughed quietly and Harold noticed that they were a lot taller than Grace and they appeared to be a man. He sat up, slowly this time and found his glasses. As he put them on, he blinked once and looked over to the person standing there. Harold's heart jumped into his throat and he could hardly speak. "J…John!?!?" He gasped. 

"Hey, Finch." John grinned and remained standing where he was.

"You… how… you're dead?" Finch whispered to himself.

"Yeah. I am." Reese answered back.

"Then how are you here?" Finch asked back, standing up from the couch and limping slowly towards him.

"You tell me, Harold." John finally moved, and turned to face Harold in his new position by the window.

"What do you mean?" Harold asked. He was starting to sweat; he was really cold…but why he was sweating if he was cold? … Grace must have turned the thermostat down when she left. "God it's cold in here!" Harold limped towards the door to check the temperature on the panel. He was surprised to see the temperature was sitting at a comfortable 68 degrees. "What…" Harold turned around and wiped the drops of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "Wait… the window must be open." He started to make his way back over to the window where John was still standing.

"Harold…" John started. "You're confused…"

"What? Wait John? What are you doing here?!" Harold gasped again. John moved from his perch by the big picture window and made his way to Harold who had slumped back down onto the couch and closed his eyes.

"Finch! You need to focus. You're running out of time." John knelt down and looked him in the eyes as Finch opened them slowly,

"What…? Time for what?" Harold slurred.

"You're dying Harold." The room started to spin again, Harold's breathing quickened and the pressure in his chest and side was almost unbearable. He got up and moved across the room and into the bathroom, the pain in his stomach was worsening and he vomited into the toilet.

#

John made his way over to the bathroom as Harold exited. He wiped his mouth on the back of his pale and trembling hand. "No. This is a dream. You're not real. You're not here, you're dead." Harold exclaimed, his voice tight and hoarse not looking at John. "This can't be happening."

"Harold." John started. "Look at me damn it!" He yelled. Harold turned around slowly and looked up at John as he shivered. His eyes glassy and beads of sweat were slowly dripping from his face and down his back. "You have chills and you're sweating, you're dizzy, confused and can't walk a straight line…" He moved closer to Finch. "You took too many pills… You overdosed Harold." Harold's mouth opened slightly to reply but no words presented themselves. He remembered taking the pills, but he didn't remember how many… the pain was so bad. 

"I… I… How…" Harold sank into a chair and he let out a deep breath as his eyes closed. "My stomach hurts so bad. I'm so tired…" John walked over next to him again.

"Harold. You need to stay awake." He patted his cheek. "If you want to see Grace again, you have to stay with me."

"Grace…" Harold whispered. "I'll call her, she'll come help!" He suddenly got to his feet and started searching around the room frantically. John sat down on the coffee table, his head dropping in frustration.

"Harold… there's no phone here. Remember? You haven't gotten a new phone since you left New York." He stood up following Harold as he stumbled around the house, trying to find his nonexistent phone. "Harold!" John barked suddenly losing all sense of patience. "Please. Come sit down, I'll look for your phone." He calmly amended.

"Alright, Mr. Reese. Good idea, I'm really very tired and I don't feel good at all. You're always on top of things… I'm so sorry that I got you killed." Harold limped back to the living room and sat down on the couch as he choked out. "I'll never forgive myself."

"Harold. You didn't get me killed. I chose to do what needed to done so that you could go on and have a life with Grace, which is why you need to sit here and relax so that you can actually live it." Harold nodded as well as he could and fell back onto the couch.

#

"Harold…" John whispered. "You have to stay awake." He smiled as Harold opened his eyes minutely and tried to focus on John's handsome face.

"John…" Harold groaned as his stomach started to cramp, he leaned forward and groaned again in pain. His breathing was shallow and weak now, his stomach churning as the knowledge of what had happened sank in. "I'm going to die aren't I?" Harold asked as tears started to well up in his eyes. “I'm going to leave Grace again, forever this time.”

"No. No, you're not." John demanded. "Just stay with me, Finch." John sat down next to him and put his hand on his shoulder. Harold could feel the warmness of John’s hand vividly. He sighed happily at the contact.

#

Harold was shaking again now, he held his hands in his lap trying to control the trembling, but it was no use. "John…?" He rasped out.

"I'm still here Harold," John replied moving into Harold's line of vision, a grin on his face.

"What's it like to die?" Harold asked bleary eyed. John started to laugh but then his expression turned solemn.

"It's… it's just like someone turns out the lights." He replied. "But you're not going to know what that feels like because you're not going to die." John got up, "You need to drink some water, Harold." He had to keep Finch conscious. He motioned towards the sink in the kitchen. "Let's go… get up." He commanded.

"No, I don't think I can, please John…" Harold moaned as he closed his eyes and lolled back against the couch cushion as he began drifting off to sleep. "I'm so very tired," He whispered.

"Harold. Get up right now. You don't want to be an asshole and leave Grace alone again do you?" he said in a demanding tone. Harold raised his head and glared at him.

"That was a low blow, even for a dead man," Harold replied as he started to stand to make his way towards John.  As he stood, a sharp pain shot through his back and he gasped as the breath was pulled out of him. The room was spinning again and he had to take a moment to gather himself before he tried to move. He took a step forward and he lost his balance as his bad leg folded underneath him and he fell forward onto the floor in a heap, seeing stars and screaming in pain as he hit the floor.

"Come on Harold, get up, you can do it." John encouraged him with tears in his eyes as he stood by the sink watching Harold writhe in agony. After a few long moments, Harold managed to maneuver himself up with the help of the coffee table and couch… gasping at the effort. He held onto anything in reach and made his way into the kitchen to get a cup. His trembling hands grabbed the cup but it slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. Bending over to pick it up, the whole room whirled, he keeled over and fell to the floor again. This time, he laid there for a long while with his eyes closed, trying to breathe through the pain that wracked his entire body as he shook. "Harold, you're almost there. Let's go, get up." John knelt down next to him and Harold managed to roll over and crawl to the cup, he grabbed it and pulled himself up by the counter, panting and gasping for air as he got to the sink and turned the faucet on, he was sweating profusely. He managed to control the shaking enough for a moment and drank the entire glass. He turned to look at John who was now standing by the couch with a smile on his face, "Think you can make it back?"

#

The pain was almost unbearable now. His stomach was in knots and he had thrown up twice more before he made it back to the couch. His neck and back were throbbing from the impact of falling down and his thoughts were muddled, he wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't anymore. "John…" He murmured quietly.

"Yeah, Finch?" John replied.

"I've missed you." He whispered. He lifted his head up from the couch cushion and looked toward John. "For the first week, I would catch myself lifting my hand to touch my earpiece,” he said weakly. His head fell back; he didn't have the strength to hold it up anymore. "I wanted to tell you everything… but you weren't there." He let out a deep breath. 

"I'm always here Harold." John had a look of sympathy and compassion on his face…

"That's good to know… but I think Grace would put me in a psych ward if I start talking to my dead partner." Harold slurred out and started to laugh painfully. John grinned and sat down on the sofa next to him. Time was running out, Harold was fading and if Grace didn't get home soon, he wouldn't make it. "Grace should be home by n… now..." Harold shivered.

"She'll be here soon Finch, don't worry. Just stay awake, okay?" John responded back gently.

"Okay, I'll try," Harold whispered back. "John…" he started again. "I never got to say thank you…" He opened his eyes and lifted his head up one last time. "For giving me a second chance." He cleared his throat, "A chance at a normal life, with Grace."

John smiled back at him, "You're welcome Finch."

"Are you going to stay with me? I'm afraid…" Finch groaned out.

"Of course Harold… just hang on." Reese replied as his hand grasped Harold's and Harold's head fell back again as he closed his eyes …, He was just so tired and he only needed to rest for a minute, John would forgive him.

#

"Harold?" The door opened and Harold's eyes cracked half lidded… "Harold? Oh my God!" Grace exclaimed. Harold looked over beside him to tell John that he had made it, that Grace was home and he would be okay… but the space beside him was empty… he again shut his eyes and conciseness was draining from him. "Harold open your eyes! Please!!! I’ve called for help; you're going to be okay." Harold gazed at Grace for a moment and shut his eyes again and asked,

"J…John… where's John?" His breathing quickened and the trembling was getting worse. "He was just here!" Harold’s clothes were damp and he was covered in sweat. He struggled against Grace as she tried to calm him to down.

"Harold what happened?!" He began to calm down once he realized that Grace was upset and he closed his eyes, he couldn’t hold them open any longer.

"Too… many pills." He gasped. "John said… I took too many… pills."

“Harold please stay awake,” she pleaded. Harold then started to talk gibberish and Grace could only discern the name John and apologizing over and over again. The paramedics arrived quickly and did a preliminary check on his condition before carefully lifting him onto a gurney and out into the ambulance just as his body started to convulse. Grace held onto his hand until they loaded him inside. "I'm sorry mam but we have to work on him on the way and let the hospital know what to expect when we get him there." The paramedic told her sympathetically. "You can follow us."

"Alright but please don't let him die." She implored.

"We'll do everything in our power." He replied.

"Male, age 55… 5'8 about 180lbs. Name is Harold Martin. Suspected overdose on OxyContin and Tramadol, quantity unknown, Patient has had spinal fusion in the upper neck region and lower back and hip surgery approximately 6 years ago, also a GSW to the abdomen obtained two weeks ago. Lost consciousness in route, pupils are sluggish… fiancé said he was hallucinating and shaking when she found him… Patient started convulsing when we arrived on scene but has since stabilized. Estimated time since drug ingestion is 2 hours." When they arrived Grace parked hurriedly and ran to the ambulance. "He's going to be okay right?" Grace pleaded as they rushed to the ER.

"Mam you can't be in here right now." One of the nurses gently took her by the arm and guided Grace into the waiting room.

"Please, will someone just tell me he's going to be okay!?" She pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

"We're going to do everything we can mam, just try and stay calm" and the nurse left her alone in the room. She felt like a robot, she was cold and numb; she sat down in a chair and covered her face with her hands and sobbed. This couldn't be happening. This _could not_ be happening. She had just gotten Harold back and now to think he might leave her again, and for good this time…

#

"Ms. Hendricks?" A doctor asked walking into the waiting room after an unknown amount of time but seemed like days. She sprang to her feet and met the doctor halfway into the room, he motioned to a chair and they each sat down.

"Is he going to be okay?" She asked anxiously, her heart pounding in her chest.  

"He's stable… We had to perform a gastric lavage to flush out his system.” She looked at him confusedly. “Basically, we pumped the drugs out of his stomach,” He explained. “The wound to his abdomen had to be attended to as well, we had to go in and repair the stitches inside and out, he must have been physically asserting himself, he’s bruised throughout his body, it looks as though he may have fallen down at some point and in doing so he aggravated his stomach wound before it had enough time to heal thoroughly." Grace started to feel sick at what the man she loves had to have gone through in her absence, the doctor continued, "Fortunately, there doesn't seem to be any brain damage. The fact that he seems to have stayed awake the majority of the time he was alone probably saved his life." Grace let out a small sigh of relief, "He's going to feel pretty bad for a while, and sore as hell but overall he's a very lucky man… We need to keep him for a few nights, but he should be able to leave soon if all goes well." The doctor paused, "Now, by what you have told us and from what the paramedics stated this was purely accidental, but I have to ask… has he been depressed or suicidal as of late?" The doctor's tone turned serious.

"No, he hasn't. He's been in a lot of pain, but hasn't seemed depressed or anything like that." Grace assured him. The doctor nodded and smiled back. "Can I see him?" She held back tears as her voice cracked.

"Of course. You can follow me, he's in recovery now and I believe he is awake." The doctor smiled and led her into Harold's room. Harold was lying in a large hospital bed staring at the ceiling until he heard Grace come in.

"Harold…" Grace whispered and moved over to the bed and leaned over him. He looked at her, his eyes naked and clouded over with pain and exhaustion. "I thought I had lost you again." She said as a tear rolled down her cheek. What he had just experienced was a living nightmare that he never wanted to repeat. He vaguely remembered being in the ambulance with the paramedics as they relayed his condition to the hospital and then nothing until he awoke with the hospital staff shoving something down his throat painfully. He struggled as he choked and gagged and couldn't seem to get any air until they had a tube all the way down into his stomach. He then seemed to nod off but then John was there with him, encouraging him to relax and let them work. He tried to answer him but it was impossible, his eyes filled with tears and they ran down either side of his face as he looked at John's face. "I'm going to have to leave you, Harold," he said.

"No please," Harold tried but could only express it through his eyes, "I need you." John seemed to understand his conveyance and answered him back,

"You are going to be fine Harold; You're going to live a happy life with the one woman in the world that was meant for you. And if that's not enough then remember that it's the reason that I did it, for you my friend so you could have another chance to be with the one you love." John smiled at him one more time and slowly vanished as Finch succumbed to darkness.

"I'm so sorry Grace." He rasped over the sound of the heart monitor and the soft sounds of the other machines.

"Harold it was an accident. You have nothing to be sorry for." She smiled and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. Harold felt absolutely terrible physically, his throat was raw and sore from where the tube had scraped his esophagus going down. Nausea was creeping in from the horrid aftertaste of whatever medicine that they felt the need to administer to make him throw up yet again after they had already pumped his stomach, “A precaution,” they had told him.

"Is John with you?" he asked expectantly. Grace was concerned that his confusion didn't seem any better than it was when she had found him.

 "No my darling, John was never here, don't you remember? She paused, "John died..." She answered sympathetically.

"No! That's not true! He was there with me the whole time!" "Please find him, now!" he demanded and tried to get up hurriedly. As he began to exert himself his breathing became erratic and he started to hyperventilate. Grace was distraught at Harold's violent reaction and she immediately ran to the doorway and yelled for help. Harold couldn't seem to catch his breath and began to thrash in the bed with no regard for his injuries. One of the nurses ran in had to quickly sedate him to calm him down. As he began to feel of the effects of the sedative pulling him towards darkness, his hazy mind started showing him the memories of the last few hours as if it were a movie being played in a theater, a kaleidoscope of images he could not alter. John was clearly with him throughout. His image was a vivid reminder of what Harold had lost. He watched the last moments of being on the New York rooftop begging John relentlessly to get away after he uploaded the Ice-9 Virus. He saw the look of resignation on John’s face as he smiled at him one last time and as the machine in Root’s form encouraged him to go and get away and not mess up “The Big guy’s plans.”  He watched himself stagger towards the door on top of the building and turn to take one final gaze over the city that he loved, and the man that had become such a good friend. He began to whimper at the onslaught of visions that he could no longer play a part in. Then he saw nothing more as the drug finally carried him into nothingness.

#

The next day, Harold woke up and was completely lost as to what had happened at first. He felt a dull aching pain in his stomach and he felt very nauseous.  He realized someone was holding onto his hand… Grace. His eyes fluttered open and he hissed in pain. "Harold?" She whispered grasping his hand tighter. 

"How did you… find me? You weren't supposed to be back until late." Harold asked softly.

"I just got this feeling. Like someone was telling me that you were in trouble." She caressed his hand, being gentle and careful of the IV sticking out of it. _John_. Harold thought. He had remembered him being there with him, telling him to stay awake, making sure he stayed alive and drank water to stay hydrated… "I'm just so glad you're okay." Grace said kissing his forehead again.

"Me too," Harold replied, his voice weak and raspy. He groaned at the pain his entire body exuded.

"Do you want some water?" Grace replied, trying to help. "Or some ice chips?"

"Water will be just fine, thank you, Grace." He replied with a small smile, closing his eyes. Grace got up and came back with a Styrofoam cup of ice water and held the straw to his lips. 

“I’m sorry my love,” he whispered.

“Please Harold, it’s alright now,” she replied. A few moments of silence filled the room. “Harold,” Grace began, “Do you remember what happened?” Harold remembered everything but could see no reason to tell her, no reason to worry her. He knew what he envisioned was in his mind and that John was truly gone. He also knew that John’s spirit, his essence was what pulled him through his ordeal and gave him the motivation to live. 

“No Grace,” he replied, “I have no memory of it at all,” he lied. He would keep the time with John in his memory alive and for himself. He didn’t feel the necessity to share it with anyone else. Grace didn’t know whether to be troubled or thankful for his confessed memory lapse, but for the time being, she would let it go unless it came up again on Harold’s part. “Alright,” she said, “would you like me to bring something for you to read?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” he paused and then, “The Ghost in the Machine.”

#

A few very long days later, Harold was released from the hospital. He and Grace were sitting at home on the couch, watching an old Italian romance movie. She hadn’t decided yet whether to ask him about John or not and was afraid if she mentioned it that it might upset him again and that he might just shut down about it. 

"Harold…?" Grace began, sitting up from where her head was lying on Finch's lap.

"hmmm?" He replied absently, not taking his eyes from the wide screen display.

"John… you… when you were still out of it from the whole ordeal… you said he was with you?" She asked tentatively, unsure of what she would get in response.

Harold paused the movie and looked at her lovingly. He hadn't told her much about where he had been for the past 6 years yet, just the bare minimum. He thought he was still protecting her by not telling her… but now he realized he was only protecting himself by not talking about it. "Yes." He whispered with a hitch in his voice.

She decided to risk the subject reluctantly seeing that Harold was obviously emotional. "For the first couple of nights that you were back… you would call his name in your sleep." She paused wondering if he would say anything, hoping that she wasn't pushing him further away from the past and into shutting her out completely. She moved the conversation gently forward. “And then when you told me you had lost some people… I always assumed that he was one of them.”

"He was… my partner." He started, Grace deserved the truth and he decided not to hold anything back from her ever again. "He was the best friend I've ever had." He breathed out. “The strongest and the bravest man I’ve ever known.” He paused and took a calming breath and began. "When I met him, well found him more so… I was… in a rough place… as was he… And he changed me… Opened my eyes to being able to trust someone else again.” Harold spent the rest of the night explaining to Grace about The Machine, Nathan, how when he first tried to work the numbers with Dillinger how terribly wrong it went, about how when he found John... when they first met, that John almost choked him to death. Grace was relieved at how easy it was for Harold to make lite of it now. And he went on. He told her about Shaw and Root and about Carter and Fusco and Bear, Samaritan. He went on and told her about all the times John had saved his life, all the times Harold wanted to quit and give up but John wouldn't let him and ultimately how John sacrificed himself so that Harold could come back to be with her. How John became much more than a partner, he was a brother in arms and so much more. He answered all of Grace’s questions with no hesitancy at all and they talked and laughed and cried until the wee hours of the morning before falling into a peaceful slumber entwined into each other.

#

"How did you manage to stay awake through it all Harold?" Grace asked late the next morning as they were cuddling in bed amidst the sun's glorious glow through their bedroom window, "The doctor said that it was probably what saved your life."

"I guess John just wanted to save me one last time." He replied and embraced his true love. He closed his eyes and thanked John once and for all.

THE END.


End file.
